Eyes to See
by EquinoxEP
Summary: Just talking to myself...


Eyes to See

Chapter 1: Questions

Soundtrack: Fear of Fear - Passenger

"You know what I don't get? Suicide notes. You spend all this time having no idea what to say, and suddenly you have last words. Like it's supposed to answer some profound question, like it's supposed to talk you off the ledge. It's not like that anyway, questions, that would be too ordered. It's more like... Letters just flying around incoherently, it's just chaos. You can't find the answer because you don't even know the question, ya feel?" I looked up at the shrink sitting across from me, Dr. Schafer, frantically scrawling notes on a pad, as he looked up from them and forced a wry smile across his lips.  
"Mm-hmm" he nodded glancing back down at his pad to make sure he had gotten everything. I'd been seeing him three days a week for three weeks now. I hadn't said a word up until just then. Oddly enough it wasn't because I didn't like him or anything like that. I just didn't see the point of answering any of the questions he was asking. I mean he said to answer them if I feel like it. Questions like, "How are you feeling today?" Or "Everything okay today?" I mean If I was okay would I really be here? It's not like he's stupid; he's a doctor. He can tell that I'm not fucking fine. But I guess that's a bit beside the point isn't it? Besides it's not like I could tell him how I felt. I don't even really understand that myself. Even this wasn't even a response to a question, well I guess it sorta was. the only thing he's said to me for the past three sessions is "Anything on your chest, just get it out." I guess this time I just had something on my mind.  
"Finally opening up are we, Corey?" Dr. Schafer smiled, chuckling between thin lips. "I was starting to get worried that I was bad at my job."  
He wasn't, bad at his job that is, I was the problem. I knew it, I just didn't feel like fixing it.  
"Hopefully, but I don't like raising people's expectations." I retorted in my usual, dry sarcasm. He laughed; honestly I think that's part of a shrinks job, laughing at your jokes, doing anything they think will help your self esteem or something like that. "Well I certainly do hope you'll talk from now on. You had me worried." It seems like that's all anyone ever does about me lately, worry, wonder what happened.  
"Yeah, hey, isn't it about time." I said gesturing at a clock. "I mean, I'm only paying for an hour so..." I trailed off. I tend to do that.  
"Oh I suppose it is." He smiled looking down at his wristwatch. I got up off of the couch and stretched out.

"So I'll see you Wednesday then?"  
"Sure." I responded. He only says it because I refused to show up for the first three sessions.  
"Have a good weekend Corey." He said as I walked to the door.  
"Yeah... Thanks." I said walking out onto the crowded Seattle streets. It was drizzling rain which meant that the usual madness enveloping the city was dulled to a protracted droning. I like big words. And I'm talking to myself again aren't I? I tend to do that too. Well at least I have you here I suppose, captive audience and whatnot you being the voices in my head and all. I haven't even introduced myself yet have I? I'm Corwin, or Corey or whatever you want to call me, and, I'm depressed... and seeing a therapist two times a week. But that's a long boring story, so I won't burden you with the pretense. I pull up my hood and start walking.  
It is, however, a long walk home so I guess at least a little background is in order though. I'm 16, 17 in a month in a half and I'm a white middle class male, I do fine in school and my parents are part of the fifty percent of American marriages not ending in divorce. Not much to really complain about I guess. But I guess that's what confuses me, why does life suck so much even when it's good? But answering that question isn't the problem, it's finding out what the real question is. It's like, they say the first step of solving a problem is admitting you have one, but that's pretty hard when you don't even really know what the problem is.  
I unlock the door to our apartment and walk on into paradise (which seems shockingly similar to hell when mom is angry).  
"Hey honey. How'd it go?" Speaking of her.  
"Fine." I answer. Like I always do.

"You hungry, it's a long walk." She offers. Like she always does.

"Nah, I'll find something later." I say plopping down on the one thing that truly understands me. The couch. I glance over at the calendar, December 18, Friday. The last day before winter break. Now I don't have anything to do at all, no routine, no anything. Just three weeks morphing into one incoherent blob, devoid of purpose, no routines to keep you going. Scary when you really think about it right? Maybe not, maybe it's just me being hormonal and overthinking things. But maybe it's more than that, seeing as how I've just laid here staring at the ceiling for the past 10 minutes talking to my own subconscious like it doesn't already know what I'm thinking. And with that I think I'll just close my eyes and try to sleep...

 **Hey all! How's it going? If you're here because of my firewatch story then thank you so much for taking enough of an interest in me to check this one out as well. If you're new here then, thank you for clicking on my story and, hi there! I'm Equinox and welcome to my little slice of the internet. This piece is an original work, that I'm currently working on and would love it if you all went on the ride of doing so with me. I'm always open to your feedback and really would actually really appreciate it if you let me know what you think! Until next time,**

 **See you space cowboy,**

 **Equinox.**


End file.
